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  Fier licked Asagai's ankles as they strutted towards the other side of the kingdom's square together.

  The sun was almost already setting, with vibrant hues of scarlet and blue intertwining with each other and forming a slight shade of purple in between. The boy had never paid attention to the sun back in Xaddercrux — not that he didn't care, but it was just impossible to witness it because of the large silver castle blocking the view. 

  Emberchase had let him go after that small parade ended, though the boy still felt the disappointment ebbing from the man with the scarred face. Well, the young one had once told him that he didn't want to continue his unproductive trade and just wanted to focus on fire-dancing, but now he was at it again.

  Stealing was fun, especially when the loot turned out rare and the victims were easy prey. It appeared especially enjoyable for the thief this time around; there would be no more of those buff, lazy barbarians waiting for him by the battlements to wring the prize out of him by force.

  The boy found himself staring into the slightly deformed fountain once more, his reflection rippling violently from all the splashing and tossing of coins. He still couldn't understand why the townsfolk wasted such valuable things.

  Speaking of which, he remembered the nobleman who had walked through the town earlier, his guards seemingly armed to the teeth as they kept the folks at a safe distance. He was indeed as beautiful as the townsfolk had claimed him to be.

  Prince Cosimo of Amoria, the fairest of all.

  Even he himself couldn't understand why such a title had been given before, when he saw the prince in person, he began thinking otherwise. Indeed, he was fair, with those azure irises reflecting the skies and luscious lips one would think belonged to a woman's. 'Unrealistically beautiful,' was the proper word for such a dainty, small face with rosy cheeks and chiseled jawlines.

  The Prince had gazed upon the performing players with growing fascination, like a child selecting his favorite toy for the day, before settling with the minstrel women who had sung their songs near the fountain. There were few murmurs of confusion when the bards had been escorted by the guards, but none of the peasants spoke out loud and dared asked the burning question scorching everyone's tongues.

  What was he to do with those he had selected?

  Emberchase himself had no such answer, but as usual, he knew about the rumours and tales wrapping the gorgeous prince like a blanket he couldn't get rid of. Asagai had asked him once, when the Prince had passed and the hustle had resumed, twice, when they had eaten their special hedgehog and wild boar meat for lunch, and thrice, after the scarred man had spotted a conman trying to get Fier into a cage and they had entered a long debate. But Asagai had no such success in prying out some good stories.

  Perhaps the fire-dancer was still disappointed. He didn't have to care that much about the young thief's wellbeing anyway. Asagai could manage.

  Now, Emberchase had left the fox by his side in hopes they'd be able to get along. The vixen's collar jingled shrilly as she trotted around and dove after some pigeons, where the unusual silver bell around her neck had been engraved with Emberchase's name. 

  "Fier, get back here!" the boy shouted after the vixen exasperatedly. He had been after the animal since she begun chasing birds and biting the hands of children who had tried to pet her fiery coat. Mothers glared at him as they wrapped their arms protectively around their little sons and daughters, all the while kicking up dust in the hopes the fox would go away.

  'Emberchase is running late,' thought Asagai as he stared into the clear waters once more. The coins piling on the floor looked something made out of a lucid dream, and the boy's hands itched to dip themselves in the cool fountain. A young girl giggled when the silver coin in her hand dropped with a shrill clink.

  "Where's that fire-dancer at, anyway?" Asagai scoffed, running a hand through his hair. His bare feet were numb and aching at the same time, the sun-kissed cobblestones roasting them relentlessly. He gazed into Fier's golden irises and sighed. What was he doing, expecting some sort of answer from an animal?

  Fier had barked quite repeatedly until the boy forced his aching thighs and hoisted himself upwards. The fox, feeling accomplished for convincing the lad to stand, bolted towards the north so suddenly that the boy nearly died after giving chase.

  'Keep heading north,' Asagai had recalled Emberchase's words as he spun and turned curiously, for the red and gold banners had suddenly appeared, and they were now strewn all over that particular side of the street.

  The other square seemed livelier and louder, and most of the tradesmen and women only went as far as to sell and advertise their goods there. On the path Asagai had treaded, however, carts and small tents were lined side by side, so close to each other that they were no more than a hair's breadth, their own logos and insignias draped over each property.

  The young thief looked further around and noticed all the dilapidated houses in the background, conveniently positioned behind fancy shops and stalls and fences. Asagai's nose crinkled when the stench of pig dung wafted closer to him.

  Perhaps beauty was indeed nothing more than a fleeting sensation, not meant to be indulged in for so long. It made the wearer lose sight of the ugly but useful things behind every flash and spark. Asagai had learnt such a lesson from his old hag. Miraculously, it had applied to Amoria.

  A few people emerged from behind the carts and carriages, and Asagai saw that they were the players, camping out with their individual tents and families, wearing their distinct colours: green and brown, yellow and purple, blue and white, black and white, red and black. Minstrels, actors, tightrope walkers, knife-throwers, and fire-dancers.

  Every single one of them looked busy, though the young lad had no idea what for. Curses on Emberchase! He hadn't told him anything at all!

  "Your Highness, we are so sorry for the inconvenience we have caused you," an elderly man bowed so lowly to Prince Cosimo that his pruned face nearly touched his knees. Asagai couldn't tell from a single glance the old man's trade, for he had draped a thick cloak over his obviously shivering body.

  "No, that's not a problem," dismissed the Prince quickly, his voice soft and velvety as if he had been practicing how to make it sound as such. He shook his head, and those beautiful golden locks swayed from side to side. A few women minstrels and actresses gaped their way, beguiled.  

  But it wasn't something else that made the young thief turn. It was the distinct scent of ashes wrapping around a certain someone like a second coat. Emberchase bypassed him as he walked towards the podium for players, his springtime irises reflecting the colourful banners and decorations overhead.

  "Fier, come back!" Asagai desperately called after the vixen as she bounded towards her master excitedly, her orange tail swishing wildly. Emberchase just smiled as he petted his pet's coat. The lad simply stepped back, hiding behind the crowd. The reason for this, he didn't know why. Perhaps he would ruin Emberchase's performance if he ever saw him.

  The scarred man took off his upper clothing and stuffed it inside his rucksack before placing it on top of a barrel. He held no torch in his hand, but he was nevertheless proud and straightened himself.

  Emberchase tapped his right foot repeatedly, the boot rapping loudly against the cobblestone podium. A few fire-words were whispered, and even though Asagai possessed quite an ear, the only things he made out were hisses and soft clicks. There was a spark, and then another, growing brighter as they licked and climbed up his boots, hissing back, replying with enthusiastic fervor.

  The fire was still as graceful as a swan, no matter how many times Asagai witnessed his shows. Would there ever come a time when he would be able to wield the flames and understand their words himself?

  Some of the townsfolk noticed the new performance and stopped short, the dancing flames piquing their interests.

  The fire crawled up on the cobblestones, flaring and hissing some more as they encircled their master in a seemingly protective manner. Emberchase spoke more fire-words, and fresh embers, bright orange and teeming with life, erupted from his cupped palms and chattered enthusiastically. The fire-dancer held them as delicately as if they were little birds, their wings barely strong enough for flight.

  More folks stopped and gawped, bewildered at how the man had managed to hold the fire without getting bitten.

  The flames rose higher with each small hiss and whisper, their blaze growing brighter as they finally found their own strength to flutter out of Emberchase's hands. The young thief didn't miss the pure bliss on the man's face as he did so. A reserved grin on his face had appeared, even though his eyes were closed and couldn't see the sudden number of men, women, and children all surrounding him, covering a safe distance from outside the circle of fire.

  Emberchase struck his hands together, and the flames spread all over them, crackling sounds loudly emanating from the seemingly tame beast. They allowed the fire-dancer to grope and use them as he formed animals Asagai had only seen once or twice while they were back in Woodsworth. A flaming Raval stood in all its glory beside the scar-faced man, bearing bright, almost white blazing fangs as it growled at the townsfolk before vanishing, twisting into another image.

  From the corner of the young lad's eye, a few of those guards stepped forth and placed their spears warily at Emberchase's direction, even when they were too far away from harm. They whispered to each other warily as they gazed suspiciously at the man.

  A whole flock of fiery Liliettes suddenly swarmed around the fire-dancer, whose eyes were still closed, but moved and waved his flaming hands with such elegance that the folks — including Asagai — hardly believed he couldn't see indeed. The birds of carcass prey had bright yellow catlike irises, and even their breasts held a striking resemblance to the real ones with the help of fire's hottest colour: white.

  Those unlucky creatures possessed no such ability to emit sound for they were only conjured out of fire, but the boy still felt the coldness on his skin and the shivers down his spine when they had encountered the frightening flocks before. Even with the searing heat from the show puncturing and jabbing at his skin like the sun hugging the earth, the boy still felt the cold... the cold in his heart.

  'They look so real,' a voice in his head whispered with awe. Perhaps, if Emberchase were to teach him indeed, he'd be able to make such an amazing show, too.

  The people were flooding now, the swarm of birds flying ablaze garnering more and more attention before they vanished into a gigantic flaming torrent overhead, the sounds of hissing and cackling and laughing ringing in everyone's ears. Smoke had begun rising from the protective circle below, their heat and acrid stench forcing those who had drawn too close to back off.

  The guards were getting closer, their spears still pointed to Emberchase's direction as if they feared he was some sort of witch. Asagai was becoming extremely annoyed by their attitude and couldn't help but finally turn, prying his eyes off the man with great hesitation. Why were they acting that way towards the weaver of flames?

  Prince Cosimo stood there, in the middle of the guards, as usual. His eyes, like the clear, bright sky above, bore holes in Emberchase's form as he scrutinized the man so intensely.

  Emberchase's show finally met its end when the fiery winged creatures dispersed, their fire finally weakening as they returned in the fire-dancer's palms once more, huddling themselves as if searching for their master's warmth, exhausted. The weaver of flames allowed the remaining embers to fall into the ground, their chuckles tinkling and chanting as they landed on the stones before retiring back to their quiet, soundless slumber.

  The townsfolk were still, most of the women and children clinging onto the tunics of their husbands and fathers, who remained looking quite bewildered with their mouths agape. Emberchase bowed, a bowl in his hand. Somebody from somewhere clapped, and then another, and then more and more, until the crowd finally caught up to reality and stated such praise and sang wonders.

  Never before had they seen such a beguiling performance, indeed. What had just unfolded in their eyes will be remembered, and such actions will be told in tales once more. The weaver of flames, conjuring animals out of fire. It sounded pretty nice already.

  Gold coin after gold coin clinked loudly and shrilly as they poured like an endless stream into the fire-dancer's tin bowl. The men ushered others with tales of make believe, women whispered to their neighbors the magic they had witnessed, and children made up stories about riding those flaming animals and playing with their blazing coats.

  Emberchase slipped on his upper clothing as he picked off the dented coins and placed them into his rucksack. He then leaned himself on the barrel and began counting his earn for the day. The vixen wagged her tail as she jumped on the barrel and curled up beside the dirty rucksack, blinking sleepily. All the loud noises must've tired her out, too.

  The scent of soot and ash still lingered freshly into the air as a new batch of players stood on the podium and began showing off. Actors. Asagai couldn't really care less about their bright colours, so he shyly approached the fire-dancer in a slow pace. After that show, the young thief suddenly doubted the man who had been with him for the past few days. He still couldn't believe the dancer had been traveling with him for days.

  This was Emberchase, the weaver of flames. Fire loved him as much as he loved it back; only he can talk to the flames and understand its words. They shared secrets, they shared attributes, and they shared that same fickleness Asagai could hardly wrap his mind around into as well.

  It made the boy's little chest wench with envy. Envy felt spicy against his tongue, and when mixed with distrust, it turned sour.

  Prince Cosimo was talking, ordering something to his guards. His irises were still fixated on Emberchase. Asagai narrowed his eyes as he instinctively ducked behind a cart filled with thyme, a certain something he had gotten used in doing after an unexpected chase. The boy might be envious of Emberchase's trade, but he was certainly not a stranger to his own.

  His lithe body blended right in, though the stench of pig dung stuck onto the wheels were so unnerving they sent a bitter bile rising up the thief's chest. He was definitely no stranger to those eyes of Cosimo, even though this was the first time he had witnessed such clear and pure ones, seemingly devoid of evil. But that evil was there, alright. It was carefully hidden behind his beauty. They were so similar to the eyes of the corrupt lords and counts back in Xaddercrux that the young one had to double take. Still, they were there, raking his companion's body painfully.

  "Well, I could certainly use someone like him," said the Prince with a chuckle. The guards probably hadn't noticed for they were also looking at the fire-dancer, but something similar to a sneer crossed the lovely Cosimo's pretty face. Asagai's heart thudded wildly, and for once, he actually feared the Prince being able to hear such noise.

  "Well, what are you waiting for?" Prince Cosimo glared at the two guards beside him. "Release those minstrels from earlier. Their songs were repetitive, anyway. He's the one I want."

  They were going to take Emberchase away.

  Asagai's little hands balled themselves into fists. No, not now. Take him away and never return him to the world again, but not now! Not when the fire-dancer finally gave his word that they'd venture back to Xaddercrux after this trip. Not when his old hag waited for his return, not when she's still lying on her bed.

  Not yet. Not now.

  Asagai felt his own chest getting ripped apart by the mere thoughts of death. He had almost died twice. Men and beast alike chased them... but now they were bound to be separated by some man of noble blood who thought he owned the people. No, not yet.

  They came to Amoria to earn some coins, and Asagai didn't scathe his feet, lose some of his trust, cry his eyes out for children he barely knew, burn a few fingertips, and help out Emberchase back in the burning barn just to share him with some spoiled royalty.

  No, he certainly didn't.

  A smooth stone protruded from the ground and was being used to hold the smelly cart in place. Asagai reluctantly picked it up and felt its coldness seemingly warning him to think over for a few seconds.

  "What? Wait, I'm a what?" Emberchase questioned in the distance. The guards were by his side, a spear pointed to his breast as he attempted to protest. Something in his rucksack moved.

  No more time for hesitations. Asagai narrowed his eyes and focused his strength on his hand, throwing the stone and hoping that it would land square on the prince's head.